Madeira Again, My Dear?
by Judes
Summary: After the mix-up about the Captain's birthday on the anniversary of his death, Carolyn tries again to make the Captain's birthday special -- With VERY interesting results!


_Hello everyone. Here is yet another birthday story for Captain Gregg. My thanks goes out to Mary once again for roving an editor's eye over the story._

_Judy_

Madeira Again, My Dear?

Carolyn Muir sat at her typewriter and sighed. She hadn't written but ten words in the last hour. April the 8th was fast approaching, and her thoughts were focused solely on what gift she could give Captain Gregg for his birthday – again!

Last fall, the Muir family had thought they were celebrating the seaman's birthday, but found they were celebrating the ghost's 'death-day' instead! As it turned out, Claymore Gregg, the Captain's nephew, had erroneously provided the date to the Muir children by having pulled the wrong file from the Gregg archives. Still, at the surprise party Carolyn arranged that November 13th, the Captain did warm to the Muir's thoughtfulness and managed to relax and enjoy himself immensely. At the children's request, he set the record straight announcing that his real 'birthday' was April the 8th, now five short days away!

Carolyn could never forget that day, remembering that for the Captain's 'deathday' gift, she had given him back a torn up version of the Rules and Regulations on the Use of Public Rooms he'd drafted to keep the Muir crew in order. Finding the guidelines impossible to live by, she wrapped up the rules and hand delivered them at the party. When Captain Gregg realized what the gift was, Carolyn and the Captain had a good laugh, for the seaman came to realize that Gull Cottage wasn't a ship, it was a home, and that the trademark of real living was to work things out together. After their good-natured conversation that night, their verbal truce afforded them the luxury of carrying on merrily through the months ahead.

Carolyn dug her pencil into her hair to scratch her head. Five days until his birthday and still the dilemma of the gift for the Captain weighed on her. Surely, if the Captain remembered his birthday at all, she knew he would expect some sort of celebration, yet, he would also adamantly deny any want of a fuss, butdidn't everyone say that about their birthday? She was guilty of thinking the same thing!

What a person really wanted, Carolyn guessed, was an acknowledgment at least, a gentle appreciation of his or her existence. And a token would always be welcomed as a form of telling the person that he or she counted and mattered a great deal. This is exactly what Carolyn wanted to imply to the Captain and intended to show him by throwing another party. This party, however, would be a celebration of a different kind, without the watchful eyes of children and housemaids, and one in which she could tell the Captain just how much he meant to her.

Still, what would the party be without a gift? What could she get for a ghost, who needed nothing and couldn't use anything? Carolyn buried her head in her hands. The choice hadn't been difficult before, because the 'schedule' was an easy and obvious picking, and there was no time to think last November. Yet now, what was she to do! Carolyn looked up and stared at the wooden panels of her door. Whatever she finally decided on, she wanted the affair to be a surprise or what would be the fun of it? The answer would come, she was sure.

That afternoon, finding herself no further along on the gift idea than she was that morning, Carolyn went back upstairs to work leaving Martha below with the lunch dishes. Martha, on the other hand, delayed the dishwashing for there was other, more important work to do. Wiping her hands on her apron, the older woman ambled into the parlor to continue her spring cleaning of the grand bookcase.

The wooden antique, with its elegant glass front and high graceful lines, was rarely opened these days, not even by Mrs. Muir, who was a writer. Yet its contents, though likely to remain unread, still needed a thorough going over now and then and with her usual diligence, Martha soon had most of the books dust-free. Minutes later, she lifted the last book from the stack on the side table and blew off the spine, her eyes squinting to read the title which appeared to be – _Cooking in Portugal_.

It was a cookbook! She smiled, inspecting the book, pondering why she hadn't seen it before. She knew she'd been through the bookcase twice already on previous spring cleanings! She turned the book over thinking how odd it was that she would miss something so obvious, especially with cooking being one of her passions. With great eagerness, she wondered what treasures lay inside the ancient cookbook. Flipping through the pages, she stopped at those recipes piquing her interest, and there were many. Finally, while fanning through the last pages, a small square of paper fell out and floated to the floor. Curious as to what it was, Martha scooped up the little note and swung her reading glasses to her nose for a closer look. She could just make out that the aged paper contained a recipe for a dessert cake called _Madeira Honey Cake_, with a descriptive line below the title praising the sweetly exotic cake, claiming it to be 'a veritable Portuguese delight.' Amazingly, Martha found she could still decipher the recipe's ingredients and measures! From what the housekeeper could discern, the dessert seemed to fall into the fruitcake category, minus the fruit, but with a healthy additive of Madeira wine inside and out.

Martha's mouth began to water, but of course, the honey cake couldn't hold a candle to her special cherry pie. However, she wagered no one in the household would turn down this new, old-fashioned dessert if it was put before them on the table. Nodding decisively to put the honey cake on a future Gull Cottage menu, she slipped the recipe into her pocket. Then she sighed as if her bubble had burst. She hadn't a clue as to where to find Madeira wine in Schooner Bay, wholly doubting any of the stores in town would carry an item as exotic as Madeira. Martha shrugged off the idea and drew her attention back to cleaning. She placed the cookbook back in the case to retrieve at another time.

After dinner that night, while the children were upstairs getting ready for bed, Carolyn helped in the kitchen by drying and putting a stacks of dried plates away. At closing the cupboard, she heard Martha tisk as if something had been overlooked.

"Don't tell me we've forgot some dishes," Carolyn did a visual check.

"No, Mrs. Muir. We're fine on that score. I forgot to tell you about this!" the housekeeper's hand came out of her pocket holding the recipe.

"What do you have there?" Carolyn asked.

"I found this while I was cleaning, Mrs. Muir, it's a recipe, maybe over a hundred years old! It was in that old Portugal cookbook in the case.

"What Portugal cookbook?" she asked. "I've never seen it."

"You know, that's exactly what I thought. Me either! Guess I somehow overlooked it. Anyway, this recipe I found looked interesting enough that I thought I might make it. What do you think?" the stout white-haired woman asked, handing the paper to Carolyn.

Mrs. Muir read it and was more than intrigued. The recipe was a charming find indeed, she thought, also noting that the handwriting was by someone other than Captain Gregg.

"Maybe the Captain's original housekeeper wrote this, you know, the woman with a wart on her nose," Carolyn chuckled.

"Could have been, we can ask the Captain," Martha added.

"What are the chances he'd remember something like this?" Carolyn said, though she knew his memory to be as sharp as a harpoon when he wanted it to be.

"Slim to none, I guess," Martha answered. "I'm not sure I'd remember every detail after a hundred years."

"Well, this Madeira Honey Cake sounds absolutely delicious, Martha," she said handing the paper back, "If you'd like to make it, I wouldn't mind having a taste of the nineteenth century."

"That's what I thought too! All right then, what should we do about the secret ingredient? I'll need Madeira, Mrs. Muir, but heaven only knows where I'll find Madeira in Schooner Bay. And can we afford it?" Martha wiped down the sink. "Maybe I can substitute sherry? I do have a fraction of it."

"Sherry! Oh no, the cake wouldn't taste the same I'm sure. Madeira, especially Malmsey, is sweet and distinctive with a taste all its own, you have to use Madeira," Carolyn said firmly imbuing her expertise.

Really?" Martha lifted a thick, dark brow. "And how do you know so much about Madeira, Mrs. Muir?"

"Well, I don't actually," she lied, "but Madeira _sounds_ exotic, doesn't it? So it must be distinctive, right?" Carolyn grinned maybe a little too hard and took her apron off hanging it on the peg behind the door.

"If you say so, Mrs. Muir. Since sherry's out, don't suppose I could substitute beer if the Madeira well appears to have run dry?"

"I don't think so," Carolyn laughed, then suddenly beamed with an idea. "I'll tell you what. You leave the Madeira hunt to me and when I find some, will you promise to make two of the honey cakes? It shouldn't take me long to find some."

"Sure, but two, Mrs. Muir? I know I shouldn't ask, but is there any special reason for doubling up?" Martha might as well ask – she was used to asking about strange requests because her employer could make even the most unexplainable request sound reasonable. She listened carefully to the answer.

"I know it seems a little strange that I'd want two cakes, but let me get the Madeira first, then we'll talk. Okay? In the meantime, could you kindly not mention the subject of Madeira cake to anyone? And I mean . . anyone." Carolyn's eyes rolled up to the attic.

"Oh, I get it. This has something to do with Captain Gregg. My lips are sealed Mrs. Muir." Martha whispered furtively from behind her hand, "Let me know when you've found the booty, eh?"

"Aye," Carolyn saluted, "but stand ready mate, I still may need your help in the search." The ladies shared a laugh and went their separate ways, Martha heading into the parlor and Carolyn bouncing up the stairs two at a time.

Carolyn was immensely relieved. Thanks to Martha, the matter of the Captain's birthday gift was over. It was as simple as that. She knew exactly what she wanted to do now! She would surprise Captain Gregg with a private party for two on the balcony, and to make the evening extra special, the evening's accompaniment would be a Madeira Honey Cake! All she had to do was find the Captain's stash of Madeira! However, where the spirit squirreled his goods lately she hadn't a shipyard's clue!

Back at her desk, Carolyn thought of the sweet taste of Madeira and subsequently of her dear housekeeper and friend, Martha, whom she'd just left. The old gal was still unaware of the Tuesday afternoons her employer had shared with the Captain. Carolyn had preferred to keep the meetings quiet because at the time, Martha hadn't yet met Captain Gregg and back then, what her housekeeper didn't know, was . . . well, a blasted good thing!

However, things had changed since those days and if producing a bottle of Madeira for the dessert cakes proved to be difficult, well, Carolyn thought she might have to tell her housekeeper that at one time, herself, the Captain, and the lovely Madeira, were very dear, old friends. With Martha finally 'in the know' so to speak, Carolyn could enlist her help in the hunt for Madeira.

Carolyn clasped her hands together and smiled at an idea that might work regarding locating the Madeira. If she asked the Captain to share a glass of Madeira with her in the wheelhouse that very night, she could arrive early and see where the Madeira was hidden when he pulled out a bottle to pour! The idea was ingenious – but alas, she sighed, nearly impossible! Her shoulders slumped as she remembered a fly in the ointment.

Carolyn had told Captain Gregg _not_ to appear while she was working until she'd finished her latest article. She was desperately behind as it was. The request was sensible and he agreed. Yet, how would it look if she broke her own rule by calling for the Captain now? Then again, weren't rules meant to be broken? Carolyn tried exhaling her troubles. Why were these small things in life so difficult? Why was it so hard to please someone? Birthdays were supposed to be simple! Her chin went into her palm. Apparently, there were no easy answers and worst of all, there wasn't much time left! This was an instance she prayed the spirit would defy her stubborn sensibility and appear, but he did not.

Resigned to the emptiness of her room that day, Carolyn continued to work and afternoon slid into evening. However, often times luck had a funny way of playing a part in fate, and it was just her luck that evening, that Captain Gregg did pop into her room as she brushed her hair in front of her dresser mirror. Relieved, she smiled her greeting at the spirit's reflection and laid her brush down.

"Mrs. Muir," he nodded in return.

"I was just going to bed, Captain, but I can stay up a little longer," Carolyn offered, genuinely glad to see him. However, as tempting as it was to catch up on small talk with the handsome ghost, she needed to put her Madeira plan into effect to get to the attic and find the wine! They could talk about any subject later.

Thinking quickly, Carolyn decided a dimmer atmosphere might nurture her cause, so she reached toward the mirror sconce to turn the lamp light down. In doing so, she found herself staring at the lamp's soft glow, not really desiring to turn the key because of a particular remembrance. She remembered that it was there that she found her first invitation from the Captain to share Madeira. The request had been the ticket she cherished to many pleasant occasions with the man she loved.

"You seem pleasantly distracted this evening, Madam, is something on your mind?" the Captain asked.

"Not really, I was just thinking it's been a while since I've seen an invitation for Madeira." She shrugged. "I sort of got used to our little out of the way get-togethers.

"Ah, yes," the Captain clasped his hands behind his back.

"I was wondering," Carolyn asked, "you haven't run out of Madeira, have you?"

"Oh, no, Madam! Far from it! And I do understand your concern, considering I haven't extended an invitation in quite some time," he told her reflection in the mirror, "but to phrase it simply, I thought it best to refrain from too much of a good thing." He then came around to face her.

"As I recall, at the last couple of offerings, you had some difficulty arranging your schedule." Carolyn was about to retort but the spirit put his hand up to stop her. "It was then I declined to offer further invitations until matters could be sorted properly. Always remember, my dear, that Madeira keeps! I am confident there will be other equally enjoyable, future occasions of which we may partake of it."

This was a perfect opening and Carolyn knew she should seize the moment to further her cause. "How about one of those occasions now?" she asked coyly.

"Now? Madeira now? Are you sure, Madam? The hour is masterfully late."

"Yes, now. I don't see a reason why we shouldn't. You said yourself the Madeira well hadn't run dry," she smiled. "And the children are in bed. And Martha, well, she's – wherever she is. She's not here." She pointed out.

"I'm aware of all those things, but why now?" His eyes narrowed.

"As I said, why not?" she shrugged. "Do you have some sort of restriction for when Madeira should or shouldn't be taken? It's been too long since our last encounter, don't you agree?"

A few seconds drifted by before the Captain answered. "By jove it's an interesting idea!" His eyes lit up and his hands went behind his back. "Very well then, as long as all interference is held at bay for the moment, I see no reason why we shouldn't share a glass. Aye, it's no better time than the present to toast your gracious beauty."

"Mmm, that's exactly what I wanted to hear," Carolyn smiled.

"By the way, m'dear, may I say, that this evening, you are positively inspirational in that silky bit of cheesecloth you've trimmed yourself in. However," he rubbed his beard, "I find I have a curious inclination to curse the blasted devil who invented the dressing gown – covering all and sundry. It's preposterous! Still, there is a certain joy in peeling the fruit to get to the sweetness, don't you agree, Mrs. Muir?"

Blushing to her toes, Carolyn pulled her robe closer. "Thank you very much, Captain. Next time I'll remember to dress in the dark." She then brushed past him to the door. "I'll meet you in the attic."

"In the wheelhouse?!" Captain Gregg exclaimed spinning around. "I thought you meant we were to have Madeira here!" He pointed to the floor. "In our room!"

"I'd prefer up there," she coaxed pointing upward.

"Nonsense, Madam. At present it is dark and cold up there," Captain Gregg advised her firmly. "This is not the time to be aloft, Mrs. Muir, especially at this hour of the night. Please, make yourself comfortable in your favorite hearth chair and I will bring the wine here, where it is much more suitable for conversation. When I return, I shall light a cozy fire."

Well, that was it, Carolyn smirked. There would be no search for Madeira in the attic that night. Her spirits sank like a sinking ship, though she tried not to show her disappointment and grinned.

"That's better," the seaman responded. "Hold that lovely smile, will you, my dear? I won't be a tick." Bowing out gallantly, the spirit disappeared to fetch the wine.

"Blast!" Carolyn sighed flopping on the bed.

Captain Gregg returned via the doorway holding two glasses of Madeira already poured. "If you like, I will start the fire," he offered with a nod at the hearth. Seeing that she was still on the bed, he gestured again for her sit in the leather chair. Carolyn reluctantly shifted over and eased into the chair, her feet curled up. Captain Gregg then handed her a glass; making himself comfortable standing against the mantel.

"A toast to the lady of the house," the Captain expounded, lifting his glass.

Carolyn managed a genuine smile, her eyes adoring him, and at that moment, her ears ready to accept anything that came from his lips.

"To the only woman who could have instilled the word 'love' in lovely," he pronounced graciously. Their glasses then clinked gently and they sipped the ancient wine, gazing longingly at one another over the rims.

"Captain, at times you do make my heart flutter. And I wonder . . should you?" Carolyn took another sip, completely forgetting about the hunt.

"Believe me, Madam, I wish I could do more than cast a flutter in that lovely heart of yours, but with me being in this confounded state, and tonight especially, with you looking so . . . beautiful!" He sincerely hoped he wasn't showing his heart on his lapels, but how his heart ached and ached! And how he damned his luck for Carolyn was glorious this evening as usual.

"I really have missed our Madeira socials," Carolyn spoke honestly.

"As have I," the Captain admitted. "I am honored that you have interest in re-instating them."

"Actually, Captain?" she commented. "The way I saw it, I thought you'd either ran out of Madeira or out of patience with me and that's why you stopped the invitations."

"Oh, no, Madam! Never, to both those notions! As we agreed early on, I would defer to your schedule, with the understanding that sharing a glass was a privilege, not an obligation. Suffice it to say, I knew, that when you were ready, you would come back on your own terms."

"You knew," said Carolyn, a little surprised.

"Of course. And now that we have awakened this tradition again, may I say how pleased I am that we're able to fully enjoy the spirit of the occasion here in our room." He took a large draught then set his glass on the mantel to start a fire.

"I'm pleased too," Carolyn said remembering her mission, "but to tell you the truth, Captain, I do prefer the attic." The seaman glared at her slip of the tongue for it was the second time that evening she called the wheelhouse 'the attic'. Carolyn noted this with amusement and quickly corrected her mistake.

"I mean the 'wheelhouse', of course. Really, I do think it's cozier, in a sense, more romantic and there's a sort of excitement lurking up there."

"Excitement?" he glanced upward after striking a long match. "Among that jumble of flotsam? Hardly what I would call a romantic setting."

"Oh, but it is! And it has been on previous occasions. Don't tell me the wheelhouse hasn't been romantic for us, Captain, because I know better and so do you. It's all in how one chooses to see it."

"I see it for what it is, and so should you," he stated.

"Oh, piffle. I'll give you an example since you won't see it my way."

"I'm listening."

"Good. Take a bathroom for instance, Captain . . "

"What of it?"

"Well . . . you wouldn't think so, but a bathroom can sometimes be quite romantic – a soak in a warm bath, candles and music around. You know what I mean, it's the same with the wheelhouse . . . it's all in how one looks at it."

"Unfortunately, I must look at it every day, Madam. I know the wheelhouse is my home away from home, but believe me, I would rather be down here among the living in a proper room!"

"I know, but you have to admit the wheelhouse, well, it's a wonderful and secretive place without having to go anywhere – it's dark and mysterious with loads of places to hide things; and the children love it," she said going for a sympathetic angle.

"The place is rather a treasure trove for them, but most of the jetsam stowed up there has sentimental value and nothing more."

"Yes, but when we're there with our Madeira, it's almost as if we were somewhere else, like we've escaped and found ourselves alone on an island." Carolyn took another sip and closed her eyes imagining an island with him on it. The image gave her chills and she shivered. And the Captain, glimpsing her indulging in her fantasies, found it difficult to concentrate on fanning the embers in the hearth.

"Blast it all, Madam, any more talk about islands or looks like that from you and I shall have to carry you off to the wheelhouse myself! Then we'll see how wonderful a place it can or cannot be!"

With that image suddenly in her head, Carolyn choked on her Madeira.

"Here, Madam, are you all right?" Captain Gregg hurriedly asked, hiding his amusement while taking her glass.

"I'm fine," she assured him checking her robe for splatters. After Carolyn settled herself, the Captain knelt down in front of her and peered into her eyes.

"All right then." He handed her glass back and brought up her chin with his phantom finger.

Just then, she wanted to sink into his eyes and run her fingers through his hair. What the devil was on his mind, she wondered, watching him scrutinize her bountiful aspects. The answer didn't take long.

In the soft glow of evening, observing Carolyn by the firelight, the spirited man smiled tenderly, feeling his entire being dive into the wash of flames reflected in her eyes.

"I would if I could, you know," he whispered huskily, a hundred years of regret rising from behind his eyes.

Carolyn's skin tingled as she awaited his next words.

"I really would carry you off to that island, if you'd let me," the Captain declared.

Carolyn's loving expression showed the Captain the desire in her own heart as she observed the seaman's blue eyes glimmer a curious shade of green. She was adamant to let him know how she felt too.

"There's no one else I'd rather be on that island with . . . than you," she responded, appealing to him in the dearest of ways.

Then, with the impeccable timing of fate whose interference knew no bounds, the mantel clock above them pinged its gentle tune, reminding them the hour had grown late. They let their enchanted moment last until the final note struck; only then did they allow their eyes to fall away. Captain Gregg then stood grandly, lifting Carolyn up with his spirited hand to bring her close. In the searing hearth light, their silhouette wavered about the room, creating a haunting portrayal of the desires they would forever hold within. They loved each other, and that's all there was to it and both understood that words needn't be spoken to affirm it.

"When it pleases you, my dear," the Captain offered, "I shall take you to that island of paradise I spoke of. Say but the word and the world is yours." He gazed into her eyes.

At this point, Carolyn's knees were near buckling. What she wouldn't give to be in paradise with the love of her life! With him! Indulging herself in the carefree moment, she let images run rampant in her mind before reluctantly reminding herself that her Madeira plan was no where near to being accomplished. She tried ever so hard to remember they were drinking Madeira in her room for a reason, and therefore, no matter what, she must keep a cool head above her heated heart.

Carolyn felt like a heel knowing she must quickly spoil the mood, but she really had no other choice if she were to pull off his birthday fete. She thought quickly about what to do. Though the Captain's idea to take her to paradise might be wishful thinking, his suggestion might just be the second opportunity for her to find the Madeira! Carolyn simply couldn't resist the temptation and decided to accept his offer sooner than later.

"Captain, would tomorrow be too soon? For paradise I mean?" she asked, hoping this would finally move their activity to the attic. For as planned, by arriving early, Carolyn might see where the Captain stashed his Madeira wine!

"Paradise? Tomorrow?!" The spirit suppressed a grin at her eagerness. "You've no obligations?" he asked tugging at his ear. "Perhaps the children's after school snack? A soap opera perhaps? Or washing your hair?"

"Nope," she answered shaking her head. "There is nothing I can't handle. I'm sure I'll be free. Let's say Madeira tomorrow, your place? Ten o'clock at night?"

"I'd be honored of course, Madam, but that late? Of course, in that dustbin up there you keep referring to as an 'attic', I've no hearth to keep you warm."

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "I'll . . . well, I'll wear a heavier robe and there'll be the wine to keep me warm." She waved her empty glass as a reminder.

"Splendid, my dear! If those are your terms, it is a date then," he formalized.

"They are! And it's a date!" Carolyn grinned a mite too mischievously for his taste.

"Madam," he narrowed his eyes, "I have seen that look of yours before. Either you are up to something or you are quite heavily induced by the Madeira. The latter, I fear, is unlikely because you've only consumed one glass!"

"Let me put it this way, Captain, at this moment, I am content. I'm happy. I think you'll agree this was a perfectly lovely evening on such short notice. Thank you!"

"Fair enough, Madam! Well," the moment suddenly became awkward. He rubbed his beard not entirely sure what was going on, but the gentleman in him knew he must go. "I think we are finished for the night. I shall take my leave now," he sighed, "but for the record, I am hesitant to do so with such a lovely woman within arm's reach. Whatever shall I do?" he teased.

"Well, you can't stay, what would people think?" Carolyn teased back. "I think it's you whose had a few drinks too many."

"Not enough is more like it. I would rather be knocked out in a brawl than harbor this ache I have at the sight of you."

"Would you?" Carolyn ran a finger along the top of the leather chair.

"Mmm." The seaman then made a motion toward the fireplace knowing he really must go.

"The fire I've made is timid enough to peeter out by itself, Madam. And as for the matter of the wheelhouse for tomorrow evening, it's been months since your last visit, so a good deck swab is in order." He heaved up his chest. "And with the tone of this evening I think it's a good idea I start now. Yes, a very good idea."

"Uh, couldn't the cleaning wait 'til tomorrow?" Carolyn asked, thinking of her sleeping children.

"Oh, right, Madam! The noise! As you wish. And for your royal arrival, dear lady, I will have the deck swabbed from stem to stern. Any seaman knows that the view from a ship's wheelhouse must be spectacular, the surroundings absolutely spotless, and of all things ship-shape and bristol-fashioned! Until tomorrow, my dear."

He slowly dissolved.

"Good night, Captain, and don't work too hard on my account," she advised.

"Sweet duty if ever there were, pleasant dreams," his soothing voice echoed around her.

At precisely nine-thirty the next evening, half an hour before she was due to arrive, Carolyn flung open the attic door. The little room was close to spotless, but her dear Captain Gregg was not about – neither was the Madeira she saw upon entering. Usually, she could smell the wine's pungent aroma mixed with the room's mustiness, but this time only the scent of a spicy candle permeated the air. Moving in further, she spied the usual lacquered Chinese serving tray resting on the wooden checkerboard atop the old barrel. On the tray were napkins, two glasses and a brass candle holder with the candle, but no wine. There was still a chance.

"Captain? Captain?" Carolyn called out. The spirit instantly materialized behind her holding an open bottle of Madeira.

"Here you are, Madam. I have been looking for you. We must have passed as ships in the night."

"It's my fault, I'm a little early" she confessed.

"A mite perhaps, but it doesn't matter now." He sniffed the contents of the bottle. "I'm afraid this bottle of Madeira has the 'sickness'. It needs a proper airing for a day or two for it to become palatable."

"Oh, no!" Carolyn was disappointed.

To further confirm his discovery, Captain Gregg put the open bottle to Carolyn's nose and she sniffed.

"Oh! Phew! You're right!" She fanned the air. "Do you mean to tell me we've been drinking that?"

"Not this bottle, of course, but, this does happen on occasion. Never fear, Madam, after airing, the wine will be as delectable as usual."

"I'll remember you said that when I'm stuck in the bathroom."

He took a whiff again and crinkled his nose. "Hmm, to be absolutely sure, perhaps three days is required to cinch the cure," he determined and then frowned. "I am awfully sorry, Madam. I know how much you looked forward to this evening. Shall we reschedule? Three days from now?"

"All right. Three days for the Madeira tasting," she smiled, "but I'm here now and I'd hate to see all of your fine housework go to waste." She glanced around the freshened attic. "Captain, you've really outdone yourself this time."

"Praying I still have usefulness when I set my mind to it."

"Ah, I'll keep that in mind too," she added then commented. "Well, isn't this cozy. Captain, I seem to remember you promising me a special view from the wheelhouse." Even now Carolyn was formulating another idea with regard to the search for the Madeira. She had to think of something. The days were going by too fast and her time growing shorter.

"Captain, maybe this evening won't be a total loss after all."

"Oh? How do you mean?"

"We don't have Madeira, but I have grape juice in the refrigerator."

"Ah, splendid," the seaman saw her point. "It is all in the way one looks at it. I believe I heard that somewhere and most recently too."

"You're getting the idea," Carolyn nodded. "Shall we?"

"I'm warmed up to the idea if you are, after all I do have an excellent imagination."

"All right then. You wait here and I'll go down and get the juice," Carolyn offered.

"Oh, no, Madam!" He set the 'sickly' bottle down. "The cause of this substitution is my oversight. Allow me. You weigh anchor and I'll be back in less than two bells."

"I'll be waiting," Carolyn sung as he popped out. Finally he was gone she thought and quickly started opening boxes and trunks to search for the Madeira. She checked even the most obvious places but found nothing! _Where could the Madeira be_, she wondered seeing that most of the junk piled around her, although somewhat clean, hadn't been moved in years.

The Captain returned shortly, finding Mrs. Muir out of breath and her hair hanging in her face.

"What were you doing while I was below?" he asked suspiciously.

"Uh, nothing," Carolyn lied pushing strands of hair behind her ear. "I was uh . . . just . . . jogging, that's right, jogging in place to keep warm." She then demonstrated by jumping up and down. "It is a little chilly after all in here. I should have listened to you. You're always right." She pulled her robe closer for effect.

"I did warn you and I am right. I live here."

"You did warn me, Captain, and as I said, I'm wearing my extra thick robe and big fuzzy slippers." She wiggled her toes making the furry slippers seem alive. The seaman looked down at them.

"I hope those beasts are domesticated," he chuckled pouring the grape juice and smelling its aroma as if it were the finest wine.

"Oh, they're quite tame," she nodded accepting a filled glass. "They've never given me the slightest trouble. Wouldn't hurt a flea," she waved a hand. "I've even trained them to sit. See?" Mrs. Muir moved to the window seat and cuddled in the corner where Captain Gregg joined her.

"Mmm, they are very well trained indeed!" was his answer. "They would make excellent members of my crew." The couple touched their glasses together, then sipped, their eyes drawn to the moment.

"And what about that view you promised?" Carolyn prodded, her eyes twinkling in the spice-scented candlelight.

"Oh, Madam, the view is wonderful from here," the seaman cooed studying her. "Shall I describe it to you?"

"Please do," Carolyn said, raking her nails in the fur of her slippers.

"Let me see," the seaman began. "Out there among the dolphins, I see the green of a garden isle in your eyes, the leaves quake with iridescence from a soothing afternoon shower," he trickled a hand down indicating rain. "And there on that island beyond the dolphins, I see the soft breeze play upon your lips as the golden splendor of a tropical sunset ripens the color of your hair. Oh, my dear, if only you . . . could see this view too. The way I do."

A sweet blush halloed around Carolyn's face.

"I cansee it all . . . when I'm with you." A sip of grape juice followed and her coy look entranced him as she whispered, "This is pretty powerful stuff."

"Do you mean the view I have just described or the sweet ambrosia from our glasses?"

"I mean this juice – the ambrosia," she hastened to say swallowing her last sip. "What's in this anyway?"

"Nothing but our imagination, Madam, which when fed with love, will take us anywhere we want to go."

"If given the chance, Captain, I wouldn't care where we went as long as I was with you."

"If I were alive, I couldn't bear to be away," he chuckled lightly. "Yet, as a sea captain . . . I . . ." he suddenly stumbled on his words.

". . . would be away for months at a time," Carolyn finished for him, running a finger around the top of her glass.

"Yes, I would be away, as I must be." The seaman then engaged a serious thought. "There are times when I wonder if I could have imposed that kind of life on you – my life, an unfair life to you, yet a fair life to me."

"No, no Captain, don't say that," Carolyn hushed him. "I simply would have gone with you on your voyages! I would have sailed where you sailed. It would have been as easy as that."

Captain Gregg chuckled again. "Life aboard ship is no place for a woman, especially you."

"Now wait a minute . . ." she stated defensively.

"My dear," he explained, "in your innocence, you would have driven the men to distraction. Not a tick of work would have got done with those emerald eyes bearing down on my crew."

"But I've heard of women sailing with their husbands. I could have done it and would have! I know I could!" Carolyn was adamant that he understood her position.

"I have no doubt of that, Madam, but what would you have done when the yearning for children and a garden took root, hmm? You wouldn't find those on a ship. No, your only partner besides me would have been the echo of a cold and empty sea.

"With you there, that's all I would have needed."

"No, my dear, please try and see the situation from my perspective. As much as I would like it, we seamen survive because the likes of you have _not _found your way on board."

"Oh, really!" Carolyn folded her arms waiting for the Captain to justify his remark.

"Do you not see? Knowing you are here . . . waiting . . why it is you who gives us the courage to bring us home safe. It is you who gives us the hope needed when fair weather's lost and we have nothing to grasp but our memories and the hope of what is to come. Perhaps women . . . and I admit this reluctantly, Madam, are the more courageous souls, for having to let go of us and live their life in this way."

Carolyn didn't want to hear it or believe it, but she understood his logic. "Maybe we are brave in our own way, Captain, but I still would have liked to try. Really, you would have let me go with you, wouldn't you?"

He evaded the answer saying only, "Ah, stubborn every step." The seaman smiled, downing the last of his juice. "And as always, you are beautiful while being it." He leaned into her.

"I never once let a woman aboard my ship, but had I known you a hundred years ago – " he rubbed his beard and suddenly came to a conclusion. "No . . I stillwould not have brought you on board!"

"What!!?" Carolyn reacted.

"Now, before you stamp your fur-lined feet, hear me out, Mrs. Muir. Knowing you as I do, your presence would certainly have interfered with the smooth operation of my ship. As Captain, I could not have allowed that. I would not have got a lick of work done!"

"Is that so?! And you say _I'm_ stubborn!" she looked away.

"To the last drop." He extended his hand. "Now, your glass please?"

Carolyn's lips thinned while giving him her glass. She drew her knees up in fury for the more she thought about her staying home like a good little wife, the more aggravated she became. She'd already done that bit and didn't like it at all! Didn't women deserve adventure too?

The Captain felt her mood close. "Come now, I haven't upset you, have I?" he asked knowing she bruised easily.

"For your information, I am _re-thinking_ our Madeira date."

"Why ever for?" His brows went up.

"Isn't it obvious? To your thinking, Captain, if I were on your ship, I'd be no better than extra ballast or bad water in the bilge!" Carolyn then stood.

"I did not say that," the Captain countered, he too standing up.

"Ha! You certainly did! In today's vernacular, I believe I'd be what is called 'extra baggage', Captain."

"Well, if truth be told, you _could_ say that, but in a nice way!" he grinned.

"Oh! You're insufferable! If my slippers were alive, I'd have them bite you!" She stomped to the door. "Keep your blasted Madeira!" Carolyn exited the wheelhouse with a slam of the door. After the shock wore off, the Captain plopped down on the window seat and laughed heartily.

"What an incredible woman you are, my darling!" he said aloud. "How could you _not know _that I would have made you a permanent fixture on my ship! A figurehead for life!"

Meanwhile, in a huff, Carolyn made a beeline for her room and locked the door. It was a futile move, what with a free-wheeling spirit living in the house, but it made her feel better just the same. He wouldn't dare come in! Would he? She threw her robe off and hopped into bed, her mind reeling. Every time she tried to do something nice for the Captain, the effort ballooned into one of extreme and convoluted frustration. And of course, the idea of the Madeira cake for his birthday was a page in history now. She would rather have her mouth permanently sewn shut than let any form of Madeira pass her lips again. And his birthday? Well, he could do whatever he wanted, assuming he even remembered his birthday, because she certainly wouldn't be the one to remind him! She punched her pillow and turned out the light. Ghosts!!

Time flew by, and on April 7th, the day before the Captain's birthday, Carolyn returned from a working day trip to Boston. Before heading directly home, however, she stopped off at her landlord's office to ask him a question. Once inside the office, she set her purse on his desk and shook Claymore Gregg's hand as he stood up.

"And how lovely to see you again, Mrs. Muir! What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Maybe you should sit down, Claymore, this visit has to do with Captain Gregg."

"Oh," he warbled, "until you came, there wasn't a cloud in the sky."

"Claymore!" Carolyn felt slightly unwanted but knew the bad weather slur was a direct reference to Captain Gregg, not her. He ignored her discomfort and sat down, peeking at his watch.

"Claymore, am I keeping you from something?" she asked.

"Oh, no, Mrs. Muir. I'm just counting the minutes. It's been one week, four days and two hours since I last heard mention of ol' spookface. I was going for a record, you know, for the Guiness Book?"

"I doubt they'd have 'ghost avoidance' as a category."

"If they don't, I'll tell them they need one! And I was doing so well!" he moaned.

"I'm sorry I broke your record," Carolyn said feeling a little guilty. "We'll try for longer next time, eh?" she smiled.

"It's no use, Mrs. Muir. That monstrous, miserable ghost – he is my cross to bear, yet I suppose someone has to do it. You see, I try to find the positive in every situation."

"That's very gallant of you, Claymore, but I've really only come here to ask you a question, since you know so much about Gull Cottage and its contents."

"Contents?" He suddenly perked up sounding a trifle annoyed and inconvenienced. "Now, Mrs. Muir, I'm not moving any more furniture, if that's what you've come here for! Not after last time. As you can see, after that fiasco with Captain Gregg, I've had to buy new used furniture to fill out this place. It wasn't easy."

"No, Claymore, I'm not here about furniture at all. I want to know about the Captain's Madeira. You wouldn't by chance know where he keeps it would you?" she grinned.

"His Madeira!?" The pale man's eyes widened behind his glasses. "Oh, really, you mustn't tamper with that!! It's sacred, Mrs. Muir!!"

"I just need to know where it is, you know, where he keeps his stash," she said with confidentiality in case certain spirited ears were lurking.

Claymore wrung his hands together. "I knew it! He's finally driven you to drink, Mrs. Muir! You poor dear!"

"No, he hasn't, Claymore," Carolyn insisted firmly.

"Then why do you want the wine? You're only asking for trouble."

"Well, actually, I know he has Madeira because . . . well, we've shared a glass now and then," she admitted.

"You've actually drank it?? Oh, my!" Envy entered his voice.

"Mm-hmm, but this time I need a bottle of Madeira for a surprise. So tell me, do you know where it is?"

"If I did, and I don't, I wouldn't say, and if I didn't, I still wouldn't say! Oh, it's best to leave it alone, Mrs. Muir. For your own good – for your stomach's good!" he tried to warn her off. "That stuff's over a hundred years old . . . and counting . . . but it's worth a fortune! He won't let me near it. Good luck, if you find it!"

Ah! Now Carolyn now knew why the wine was hidden, because of its worth and because the Captain didn't want Claymore to find it! Suddenly she felt honored that the Captain would share one of his prize possessions with her.

"So, you're not going to tell me where the Madeira is," Carolyn asked one last time.

"I would if I could, but I can't. You see, Mrs. Muir," he gulped, "I always faint at the sight of a slit throat – when it's mine!" he quivered, pulling at his tie.

"Never mind then, Claymore, I just thought I'd ask and I won't bother you again about it." She arose and opened the door. "You'll be all right after I leave?"

"As soon as the cloud's disappeared, Mrs. Muir." By then, she could tell he was already feeling better just knowing she was leaving.

"I'll see you, Claymore."

"Right, bye then, oh, uh, wait . . . Mrs. Muir?"

"Yes, Claymore?"

"Not that I'm a busy-body or nosey or anything, but why do you want the Madeira? What's the surprise?"

"I'm throwing the Captain a little surprise party . . for his real birthday. Care to join us?"

"Unnggh!" Claymore groaned remembering Captain Gregg's last birthday. "Mrs. Muir!" he rushed beside her. "Please do me a favor and lose my invitation!"

"That's what I thought," she smirked as Claymore ushered her out the door and pulled the shade down.

When Carolyn finally arrived home after her short visit with Claymore, her children literally pulled her out of the station wagon, planting kisses on either side of her face. Several tightly wound hugs followed and after, she told Jonathan and Candy to get washed for dinner as she took her purse and briefcase from the car. As the children ran in, she stepped through the gate pausing on the flagstone walk to look up at the balcony. She hadn't seen the Captain in almost a week and tomorrow would be his birthday. Unfortunately, she had nothing to give him, nor at this point, did she really care to. And it didn't matter if she changed her mind now, the logistics for her surprise party hadn't fallen into place and he probably didn't care that she cared even if he knew. Her chin went up defiantly, but seconds later fell with her slumping shoulders. This was not a good way to be with the Captain. She missed him terribly.

Carolyn latched the gate and hurried toward the front door, hearing her stomach growling from hunger. Almost immediately, however, her senses picked up a wonderfully sweet aroma coming from the kitchen. Her salivary glands literally jumped into high gear, waiting to see what culinary masterpiece Martha had designed. There in the kitchen, she saw two freshly baked cakes cooling on the counter.

Upon being questioned Martha answered. "Why, these are the cakes from that old Madeira recipe, Mrs. Muir, remember?" she explained.

"The Madeira cakes? Are you saying you _found_ the Madeira?" Carolyn asked with surprise.

"Yes, didn't you want me to? I was getting a light bulb from the basement and I found the stash of Madeira you got from the store, Mrs. Muir."

"In the basement?!" Carolyn hadn't thought to look there.

"I didn't think you'd mind me getting a head start on the cakes so I went ahead and made them. You did still want them, right?"

"Oh, yes," she lied. "And they smell wonderful," she said appreciatively.

"I think so too. If the cake batter was any indication, either they'll be a smash, or you'll get smashed. You choose," Martha snickered whiffing their delectable scent. "I can't wait for a taste. They do smell delicious."

"I can't either," Carolyn reluctantly agreed, her mouth watering for a nibble. Yet, she promised herself she'd never taste Madeira again, thanks to him! She looked at the ceiling and sighed. This was a problem. She couldn't insult Martha by not trying the cake, but she had to admit they looked out of this world. Carolyn then wondered if Captain Gregg was listening in and had seen the cakes. Even if she did relent and decide to celebrate his birthday the 'Madeira' way, the cake factor would no longer be a surprise. Anyway she looked at it, she couldn't win.

At dinner time and despite misgivings, Carolyn ate a slice of honey cake for dessert along with the rest of the family. Within seconds of swallowing her first bite, Carolyn decided to give up her siege with the Captain, at least until his birthday passed, because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't justify letting his birthday slip by without some kind of acknowledgement. So whether or not the Captain remembered his birthday, she would make an effort to celebrate it in some small way. Her decision necessitated speaking to him that night, and as it happened, she didn't have to call out. While removing her watch in her room, he came on his own, his smooth voice sounding in her ear.

"Madeira Honey Cake is best served with a glass of Madeira, my dear."

"It is?" she answered the voice. "Sometime I'd like to try it that way." Carolyn smiled gratefully, relieved at the Captain's return. And as she had thought, he did know about the cake!

"Try it you will, Madam. Will tomorrow be convenient?" the voice asked. "Say, ten o'clock in the evening?"

"Uh, that would be fine." She glanced around to see if he'd appeared.

"My place, or yours?" came his voice again.

"I have a room with a view," she said.

"So do I," the spirit countered.

"I have a balcony," she upped him.

"Blast! Yours it is then."

Carolyn was pleased the balcony won out. "Ten o'clock then," she told the voice, "and not a minute sooner." With a finger to her chin she asked, "By the way, who am I speaking to? If I'm having you over for an intimate glass of wine, I should at least know who you are."

"I am a simple, but able-bodied seaman home for a bit of shore leave."

"Able-bodied, you say?"

"Some say . . . _very_."

"I see." Carolyn said. "With such a big day ahead of you, hadn't you better get some rest then?"

"Fair warning, Madam, one of us will be restless tonight, but it won't be me. Pleasant dreams!"

Carolyn sighed happily; predicting that if all went well, their rendezvous would be a night she would never forget.

After dinner the next evening, Carolyn whispered in Martha's ear asking her where the birthday candles were.

"Why, Mrs. Muir, is there a birthday we've forgotten other than mine, which we all know is a state secret?" she chuckled.

"Shhh! It's the Captain's," Carolyn informed her.

"But I thought we celebrated his birthday last November," Martha whispered back.

"We _thought_ we did. This is the real day."

The older woman began to understand. "Oh, that's why you wanted the extra cake. Why didn't you just say so?" Then Martha began to fret. "But Mrs. Muir, what are your plans? I haven't any crepe paper or ice cream!"

"That's okay. I don't need them. The children don't even know about this. After the kids are in bed, I'm going to surprise the Captain with a cake on the balcony, that's why I need a candle." Carolyn put her hands together in mock prayer. "Please tell me we have one."

"Only one?" Martha snickered. "Aren't we short about a hundred and forty nine?"

"Let's just say I don't want to burn the house down, so one's enough," Carolyn smiled to her friend. "And Captain Gregg knows about the cake, but so far as I know, he doesn't remember that his birthday is the _reason _for the cake, so the candle will be the surprise."

"I see. Tell you what, Mrs. Muir," Martha continued to speak furtively, "I'll bring the cake up about nine, all right?"

"Perfect! That'll give me an hour to get ready after the kids are in bed."

Martha opened a drawer and retrieved a candle saying, "I'm glad the old goat's come back to you, Mrs. Muir. If I were in your shoes, I'd certainly I'd miss the ogre. It's high time the pair of you kissed and made up."

"Martha!" Carolyn gasped.

"You know what I mean," she chuckled. "I always know when there's friction between you two. The Captain's been moping around here all week like a sick puppy, same as you, only I get both sides of it."

"I didn't know you knew," Carolyn said admittedly embarrassed that her love-life affected the household as much as it did.

"Your business is your own, Mrs. Muir, but if you want my advice, it's a lot more pleasant around here when everybody's vibes are in tune."

"Have I been that bad?" Carolyn asked.

"Your act would have booted Tiny Tim off the Ed Sullivan show," Martha cracked.

"I'm sorry, for all of this." Carolyn apologized. "I'll try not to let this happen again. I promise."

"I've said what I think and that's enough," Martha gave her a comforting smile. "Now, back to business, Mrs. Muir. After I deliver the cake, I'll make it an early night so I won't be in your way." The housekeeper hung her apron neatly on a peg. "Do me a favor and wish the old goat a happy birthday for me?"

"I will. And Martha? You're a dear. Thank you."

"Always eager to help. One thing's for sure, you two keep me on my toes, more than Candy and Jonathan at times and I should be glad of that," she chuckled.

Carolyn gave Martha a kiss on the cheek and left to head upstairs.

Carolyn took the steps slowly in order to think. So, Captain Gregg hadn't avoided _everyone_ in the past week, no, not everyone, just her! She supposed that was the right thing for him to do though. Why should he hide himself away from others because she had an issue with him? It stood to reason that Martha and the children were now his family too and he had just as much right to mingle with and enjoy them as much as anyone would. No one in the house should suffer because of a disagreement between her and the Captain, it wouldn't be right. Reaching the top landing, she remembered that is she were to pull of the Captain's party, there was much to do in a short time. She proceeded to the children's room to go over their homework before beginning preparations for the Captain's birthday party.

By half past nine that night, everything was set on the balcony. The diminutive side table had been brought outside and the accompanying chairs were laden with cushions. On the table, sat a tall, decorative candle and two glasses. In her bedroom, Carolyn lit a modest fire against the April chill. To complete the setting, Captain Gregg need only bring himself and the Madeira to the party.

Checking once more that the long sleeves of her dress hung properly and that the pins in her hair remained where they were supposed to, Mrs. Muir smiled at her image noting how the midnight blue of her empire gown made her features more elegant and luminous. She knew the Captain couldn't help but drool over her femininity.

Minutes passed by slowly, then finally the mantel clock pinged its tune that the birthday hour had arrived.

Carolyn checked her lipstick once more and stepped out onto the balcony, gently closing the French doors behind her. Lighting the table candle, she again smiled recalling her first night in Gull Cottage. When she turned around, Captain Gregg manifested holding a half empty bottle of Madeira.

"In my time," Captain Gregg bellowed, "if your housekeeper pilfered my Madeira as she has done here, I'd have strictly reprimanded the female pirate to the fullest. Fortunately for her, the cause . . . outweighed the crime!"

"She'll be glad to know that, I'm sure," Carolyn uttered, barely able to breathe, for this loud but quaint reconciliatory moment sent a pang of joy from her heart to her stomach! She hadn't seen Captain Gregg in a week, yet it had seemed like forever. In an instant, her anguish melted and fell by the wayside. All that wasted time and they had really bickered over nothing. Worst of all, it was she who had instigated the debate, denying him the only world he knew. She vowed not to miss another minute of loving him and letting him be what he was – her irascibly handsome seaman.

He chose to look down at her feet, particularly at her shoes asking, "They don't bite, do they?"

"Bite?" Carolyn repeated.

"Your shoes. Not long ago, I had a rather cross run-in with your sheepdog slippers."

Carolyn glanced at her satin pumps. "They haven't bitten anyone yet. And they won't ever. I promise."

"I've missed you," the seaman stated huskily uncorking the bottle.

"Have you?" she asked.

"It's a cold ship when you're ashore. I nearly threw out the dinghy once or twice to fetch you, but in the end . . ."

"You didn't," Carolyn cut in, "because women have no place on a ship?"

"That is right. On a ship at sea, yes." He sniffed the bottle.

"Oh, then women do have a place while the ship's in port?" Carolyn asked, truly not wanting to argue, but she did want to learn more about him and his life. The way it was. The life she missed out on.

"Yes, though I was partial to shore leave as was most of my crew," he commented, handing her a full glass.

"Ah, as all those able-bodied seamen would be."

"Of course," he nodded, finding Carolyn even more profoundly stunning when she was lit with an inner fire. He shifted, allowing himself to take her beauty in, trying not to be too obvious about it, however, his eyes couldn't get enough of her and raked her full length, stopping at her breasts, her lips, and at last the gems of her eyes. She was so exquisite in her empire gown, he decided, that if he had met this woman on a shore leave, he would have found a way to strand himself even if he had to sink his own ship! Who was he kidding?! She was perfect and the perfect woman for him, and aye, a week without her had seemed like an eternity! And to come back to this resplendent vision of . . of a goddess! What madness! What unfairness! His heart groaned and his ectoplasm sizzled like bicarbonate of soda. He held up his glass.

"My dear, to the beauty of you, the ever lingering sweetness of a sapphire dream, for that is what you are tonight. May this dream be yours and mine to keep."

"Thank you," Carolyn smiled, "I hoped you would like what you see. I wanted to make up to you for my selfishness last week, for wanting you to be someone other than who you are."

"And at this moment, it is I who wishes to be selfish, to want the beautiful creature that you are to belong to me and no one else."

Carolyn clinked her glass with his, her heart pounding. "I suppose you said something along those lines to all the ladies you had . . in port?"

"No, Madam, I have said these words only to you," he paused. "Is that what you want to hear?"

Oh, he was a good liar, she smiled. She was sure he courted many women in his day with the same line! Yet, she wanted to be sincere, for he had lived his life and should not be questioned.

"Yes, it's what I've always wanted to hear – from you. In a way, I feel honored. I know now you wouldn't say these things unless you meant them."

"And I do."

"May I tell you something?" she asked.

"Please do."

"This may sound silly, but I have a certain sympathy for those women in port, who missed . . . what I've found," she admitted. A moment passed.

"Oh, no need to rain pity on them, Madam, they were all well recompensed, I assure you," he said pointedly rocking on his heels.

"Captain!" Carolyn was a little shocked, though it didn't last long for Captain Gregg had been a virile man – she couldn't deny him that. Even now, she was guilty of denying familiar stirrings, which she hoped by now were merely the effects of the wine, but she knew they were not. She caught him studying her visage again.

"Do you really like what you see?" Her coy smile was delicious and indeed infectious.

"You are beauty refined tonight." Captain Gregg moved closer, his eyes piercing through her as if poised for attack. "Truly? Had I found you in port when I was alive . . . I dare say . . . I . . . " again he couldn't finish as before.

"Yes? Answer me this time. What would you have done?" Carolyn wanted to know.

"Truthfully?" He backed away and looked out to sea. "By God, with you near, Madam, I would have lost all sensibility. My sole thoughts would have been of and about you as they are now."

Carolyn swallowed her heated blush. Did he really think of her as much as he implied?

"In retrospect," he continued, "meeting the perfect woman would have meant sure disaster."

"Disaster? How?" Carolyn's head tilted.

"Madam, a Captain can not run a proper ship if his thoughts are elsewhere. His attention needs to be on his crew, on the job at hand. A lowly seaman can think what he likes, but a Captain . . . yes, I think if I had found the perfect woman, she would have been the end of me, of my ship, of my career."

Carolyn was astounded. She didn't know if the ghost was teasing her or was serious. Many times she had thought they were perfect for each other, rather like bread and butter, ham and eggs, heaven and earth! Was he now saying he was glad he hadn't met her when he was alive? Her chest heaved and then tightened in defense.

"What are you saying, Captain, that by loving you and trying to be the perfect wife, I would have been an anchor around your neck? Is that it? And your precious crew would have been more important to you than me?"

"No, my dear, and quickly belay those grudging thoughts." His tones were soft. "Fortunately for you . . . and for me . . . you . . . are not perfect."

"Say that again?!" Oh, the Captain was a sly one, pitting one insult against the other! He was teasing her, he had to be! Carolyn set her Madeira down and folded her arms, inadvertently enlarging her breasts to the seaman's ultimate pleasure.

In a huff, she pointed a finger at him. "I know no one's perfect, not even you!"

"No, I am not, as you've said before."

"And to think I spent money on this dress for your birthday!" she turned away. "I'll never do anything this ridiculous again!"

"What did you say?!" the seaman stepped next to her.

"I said I'll never do anything this stupid again," she repeated.

"No! About my birthday?!"

Carolyn's hand flew to her mouth realizing she had let her surprise slip too early. She gave up and faced the ocean leaning her elbows on the rail. "Oh, what's the use. Happy birthday, Captain, such as it is."

"My birthday?" He rubbed his beard in confusion. "What is the date, Madam?"

"April 8th, for another couple of hours anyway."

"That is the correct date of my birthday," the seaman acknowledged. "And if today is indeed April 8th as you say it is, it _is_ my birthday!" He moved to her side. "You did all of this for me? You lured me here on purpose?"

Carolyn nodded. Giving up felt good. The tension was gone.

"And I have been a thankless twit, teasing you unmercifully since we've been out here. I should have known – the time of year, your manner of dress, the cakes Martha made! I do apologize!"

"No need to, it won't happen again."

"Please . . . don't be like this, Madam. I am truly touched. You must understand that in my case birthdays are quite easy dates to forget. One is more likely to remember the day one dies than a birthday! You see, I am not inclined to remember my birthday, most of my birthdays I have celebrated alone. Not on purpose, of course, but after a while, I saw no need to remember the day . . . until last November when your well-intentioned celebration quite overwhelmed me. Never have I had the luxury of a beautiful woman beside me on my real birthday. Never! I am honored."

"Even if I'm not perfect?" Carolyn continued to gaze at the sea.

The Captain leaned down next to her. "I would not want you any other way, my dear. May we start the evening again? It would be a shame to waste that lovely smile of yours on a thankless sea."

Carolyn turned her head to look at him and smiled. Despite all the teasing, she loved him dearly. "Captain, you deserve a birthday kiss, a kiss to make up for all the birthdays you've missed. I wish I could give you one."

"Yes, Madam, after all these years, I do deserve a kiss, don't I? I have an idea I think you'll be pleased with."

"Oh?" Her brow went up.

"Let's waste no more time making up for lost time." Before Carolyn could move or speak further, the Captain embraced her shoulders, pulled her up and kissed her on the lips, his mouth devouring her smile. Carolyn succumbed to his charms at once, her arms dangling like a rag doll.

Moments later, the Captain moved her away a few inches, joy radiating from his face. "May the powers forgive me!" he begged and kissed her again. This time, Carolyn's arms instinctively wrapped around the Captain's neck, her fingers digging into his hair. Then after a moment, he separated from her again.

"I . . . we . . . deserved at least this much of what should be ours." He then pulled her close, nearly hugging the life out of her, struggling finally to let her go. He was glad for what he did, but wary of the repercussions.

He saw that Carolyn's eyes were glazed with wonderment, for they held as much surprise as his; he'd never even considered attempting anything like this before. He had never dreamed to – had never dared to! What had happened was an impossibility, yet he couldn't help himself. He was overjoyed at being able to kiss Carolyn deep and lovingly, imparting to her a uniquely spirited kiss filled with the unquenchable passion reserved for lovers.

Emerging from her shocked state, Carolyn managed to breathe again and actually speak. "Tell me Captain, who's birthday is it again?"

"Mine. And a glorious one it is. Thanks to you, my darling, I have received the perfect gift."

"I don't understand . . . how . . .?" Carolyn murmured in her daze, still amazed she'd been kissed.

"Don't think about it darling, not now and I highly suggest you throw away the receipt for my gift – for I won't be returning this one," he chuckled.

"Captain, I was thinking," she licked her lips to taste the memory, "shouldn't we make up for all the other years too?"

"Let's not overdo it. I think tonight, Madam, we've managed to cover at least a century," he stated thinking that perhaps there might be other times to try again. "We should go inside. I believe you have something else for me?"

"Do we have to go in?" Carolyn grumbled. She didn't want to – for doing so might break the spell and she wasn't quite ready to come out from under it. And if he kissed her once, he could again, couldn't he? She'd waited so long for her dream to come true!

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Since the honey cake Martha made is not here on the balcony, I suspect it is awaiting us in our room. Please, my dear, shall we go in now? I'll bring the wine and glasses."

Carolyn reluctantly agreed. Captain Gregg blew out the table candle and gently ushered her inside. The main cabin was warm with the fire still burning bright, its embers throwing a cozy, romantic glow about the room.

Mrs. Muir, walking rather like she'd seen a ghost, uncovered the hidden cake while the Captain brought in the table and chairs placing them near the hearth. Carolyn moved the cake to the little table and lit the birthday candle.

"Make a wish, Captain."

"Oh, I have. And it came true the day you were born," he said blowing out the candle.

"You weren't supposed to tell me what you wished for," Carolyn said softly while starting to dish up.

"I would shout my wish from the rooftop if I could, you know that don't you?"

Her answer was to hand him a slice.

"This cake looks positively scrumptious! Why, I haven't had honey cake in over a hundred years! I am sure the taste will be as delightful as the woman behind it."

"I didn't know ghosts could drool, but it's nice to know you can," Carolyn grinned, taking her portion of cake and sitting across from him next to the fire. "Bon appetite!"

Just as Carolyn was about to take a bite, the Captain halted her hand.

"I have a better idea. Allow me." Captain Gregg set his cake down and scooted his chair directly in front of her.

"What are you doing?" Carolyn asked and when he took her plate, she realized he was going to feed her. Picking up a bit of cake with his fingers, he gently placed it in her mouth. She chewed slowly and methodically before swallowing, finding his effort strangely satisfying. Her mouth hungered for another taste, her gaze drawn to his fingers. After another bite, Carolyn raised her glass of Madeira to wish her dear Captain the best.

"Happy Birthday, Captain, and many happy returns."

"Oh, my dear, with a woman as lovely and as imperfect as you by my side, I shall return happily . . . again and again."

The End


End file.
